


Gone Down Swingin’, it’s the Dead Man’s Parade

by AnotherWorld3111



Series: Wincest Drabbles [22]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Biting, Blood Drinking, Emotional Hurt, Episode: s15e09 The Trap, Frottage, Kinda, M/M, Season/Series 15, Vampire Dean Winchester, Vampire Sam Winchester, Vampire Turning, Vampires, and, basically a what happened for Sam and Dean to turn into and stay as vampires, except the vamps in question are, idk it’s what vamps do, that word is starting to look weird to me now I’ve been looking at it for too long
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:21:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22379389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherWorld3111/pseuds/AnotherWorld3111
Summary: Read the tags. Basically a wincest coda to the trap, because I had to explain my take on why they would’ve stayed as vamps when they know/have a cure...Except it’s not as in-depth and there’s more smut involved instead
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester
Series: Wincest Drabbles [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1008993
Comments: 1
Kudos: 41





	Gone Down Swingin’, it’s the Dead Man’s Parade

” _ Butch and Sundance. _ ”

* * *

The monsters were everywhere. Putting away Chuck should’ve been their win. Should’ve let them take a break, hell, take up retirement even. Instead, they lost Cas. Eileen. Claire. Jody was a corpse, a husky of who she used to be, and whatever hard edges Bobby had lost since coming to this world was now returning, regained and strengthening in harshness as the monsters grew in size. 

Sam... Sam was no better. He was fighting. But it was the fight of a desperate man, striving to keep afloat. 

None the matter. If Sam could keep fighting, then so would Dean. No matter that once upon a time, it was all the other way around. Oh, how the tables have turned... Chuck was gone, but was he, really?

The monsters were everywhere. It should’ve been simple. Vampires were supposed to be a milk run. Dean had taken a whole nest by himself once, never mind that he had been powered by dark forces that now stole away their friend from them. Together, they could’ve taken a nest and had energy to spare for another hunt the same night. 

_ ”We die... we do that together too.” _

He could see the moment of resignation dimming his brother’s face. When Sam, struggling to keep fighting, to keep going... gave up. 

His own muscles, which had been fighting back on instinct, slumped. In shock, in astonishment, or maybe just in synchronization. Either way, it was enough for the vampires holding them down to lean down and tear into the Winchester’s neck, mere milliseconds after each other. 

Dean groaned in pain. Sam kept his mouth shut, only letting a tiny whimper slip through.

When they came to, it was with human blood staining their lips. The only corpses that littered the barn were humans they hadn’t seen before, drained and unseeing eyes staring at the ceiling. 

Dean closed his eyes again, internally bemoaning in despair, but he knew it was too late. They’d already had the taste for human blood, and he was  _ hungry _ .

A growl growing in cadence erupted from beside him, and Dean had to hold back a sob for what they had lost. He knew when he opened his eyes and when he turned around, a new life awaited them. So until then, he was going to mourn while he could, regret while he could because the new life ahead of them wasn’t going to be merciful enough to allow them any more semblances of humanity.

_ ”Dean.” _

A plea, a call for help, for acknowledgment, one Dean could never ignore, every grain of his being instinctively turning to the sound, his very fiber of being built to respond. 

And respond he did, eyes opening — along with his mouth, as fangs extended, unbidden. He was met with a matching snarl, helplessness being driven out by the urge, the need to satisfy cravings taboo to what they had once stood for.

“Dean?”

“I’m here, Sammy.” Automatic, instincts newborn had him retracting his fangs to speak, but the monster within him — the monster he was now — was raging. 

It quietened to a hum, able to be ignored when his eyes landed on his brother. 

On all fours, Sam was panting, head hung down between his shoulders. Immediately, whatever injuries he might’ve sustained, whatever injuries now healed by the vampiric blood running within him, was pushed away from all recesses of his mind as he pushed himself to his knees. Desperately crawling forward, he couldn’t reach his brother soon enough, arms clumsily draping around his brother’s back, his arms, his neck, wherever he could reach to help him sit up, to  _ look at him, goddammit. _

“Sam-Sammy, hey, hey!” Hands slapping bloody face, or maybe his hands were already bloody, who knew, who cared. Sam’s eyes were unfocused, and that’s all Dean was focused on as he fought to make his brother meet his gaze. 

“Look at me, c’mon.” 

A whimper. The faint sounds of a shattering heart. “H-hungry...” Sam moaned, pitching forward to bury his head on Dean’s shoulder. He didn’t force his brother away.

Throat dry, Dean worked his mouth open, even though they both knew he heard him all too well. “What’s that?”

“So... hungry, Dean.”

Dean’s head fell back, but for all that he looked skyward, there wasn’t anyone Dean could or was going to pray to. “It’s okay, Sammy.” The biggest lie he’d ever utter, hands down. “It’s gonna be okay.”

Eyes slipping closed, he tilted his head to the side, baring his neck to Sammy, his little brother’s head still buried in his shoulder on the same side.

A sniff. A snarl. “Dean?” Pitiful, heartbreaking, but whatever blood he had coursing through his veins started racing, sensing the incoming thrill.

“Yeah, Sammy, that’s it.” He swallowed. “Feed from me, brother, c’mon. It’s okay.”

A pause, hesitation thick in the air. Fingers came grasping at his hips though, possibly intended to push Dean away, but only clamping down hard enough that he knew would be bruise worthy, and tugged Dean until he was falling forward, clambering onto his little brother’s lap.

He looped his legs around a trim waist and buried his hands in Sam’s hair. “Bite in, kid, it’s okay.” He crooned, a siren’s call, but that wasn’t what they were now, were they?

Sam’s head pulled back a margin, enough for Dean to hear the barely there  _ shnick  _ of fangs extending, and then  _ pain. _

Sharp, stabbing, but the shock of it sent down sparks all the way to his groin, making Dean groan as he let his head fall further to the side, revealing a large expanse of skin for his brother to feast on. Nails digging into scalp – and, oh, he had sharper nails, didn’t he? 

But Sam didn’t seem to be too bothered by it, going by his responding groan as he tugged Dean ever closer, his own nails starting to dig through multiple layers of clothing to get through to Dean’s skin. Sam sucked, and Dean’s hips thrusted, circling and meeting with his brother’s hardening flesh.

“ _ Yes _ ,” Dean whispered, dragging his hips up. Sam hummed, lips suctioning around the punctured flesh. Wet, sharp, and warm, Dean’s focus was torn between Sam’s mouth and the rushing desperation to get himself off. 

Barely coherent, he managed to work a hand in between them, reaching down and unzipping his belt. His cock sprang free, but he refused to touch himself first, moving further down to unzip Sam’s jeans as well. His brother’s erection slapped into his palm, and from there, it was a quick mess of heat, sweat and spit-slicked palm trying in vain to wrap around the two dicks. As if his hand would ever be enough. Dean could’ve snorted at the thought if he was any more mentally functionable. As it was, it took every last bit of stubborn willpower to work his hand up and down, twisting at their heads, rubbing at Sam’s thick vein, all the while his little brother drinking and lapping up the blood pouring through his veins with a greedy tongue, sharp teeth making a mess of tearing open his skin. 

Sam’s hand joining the fray took Dean by surprise — and it was enough to make him blow his load with a hoarse shout, arching his back further, pressing his chest into Sam’s. His eyes closed, he could focus on the rough fabric grazing at his nipples, heightening his sensitivity, and he buckled, making a mess between them. Sam clutched at Dean’s softening dick, not letting go even as he still jacked himself off as well. Dean’s whimpering might as well have been music to his ears, because Sam didn’t relent until he came as well, ceasing to suck and firmly latching down onto flesh. A flick of his head would leave Dean missing a hefty chuck of his neck, but Dean was calm, mind blissfully blank as he relaxed into his brother’s hold.

They continued to sit there in silence, coming down from their high, paying no heed to the corpses surrounding them. Hell, it must’ve been several minutes since they even focused on their surroundings. A movement would’ve been enough to break them out of their reverie, but while all was still, so too were the brothers, completely immersed in each other. 

Sam was the first to shatter the silence with a hesitantly aimed blow with a delicate hammer. “What do we do now, Dean?”

Dean opened his eyes, still not really seeing anything. He rested his head atop Sam’s, but he didn’t have to ponder the question for long. 

“We do what we always do, brother,” He said, pressing a kiss to Sam’s grimy hair. It smelled of blood, and his fangs itched to extend again. “We go down swinging, Butch and Sundance style.”


End file.
